Thou Art A Slave, Whom Fortune's Tender

A Rotten Case Abides No Handling.

Thou Dost Conspire Against Thy Friend, Iago, If Thou But Think'st Him Wronged, And Mak'st His Ear A Stranger To Thy Thoughts.

Wolves And Bears, They Say, Casting Their Savagery Aside, Have Done Like Offices Of Pity.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

Thus May Poor Fools Belive False Teachers.